Title: Night of the Dead Living
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: "It was too damn hot to sleep."
Rating: PG - language
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox;
this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on
any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool; ask - I'll say yes.
Feedback: Hit me, baby, one more time.
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Melissa Pete, Dot, and Meg. If this
seems at all familiar, it's because I've ripped off two of
my favorite episodes of Homicide: Life on the Street to
produce it. *g* "Night of the Dead Living" [the transcript
of which can be found here: http://www.windowseat.org/homicide/scripts/103nightofdeadliv
ing.html along with a bunch of other H:LotS transcripts] and
"Stakeout." Mostly NotDL, but there's a teeny little bit of
Stakeout thrown in. NotDL was written by Frank Pugliese.

~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation

~*~

Night of the Dead Living
Part 1

~*~

A lone candle burned in the darkness of the security control
room.

The door opened, and one very smug-looking Wolverine
entered.

He'd found the one room in the mansion where the air
conditioning still worked.

Sort of.

Well, not really. It just had an oscillating fan to move
around all the hot air, giving the illusion of coolness.

He closed the door quietly and sat down in one the leather
armchair nearest the fan, sighing. It wasn't *that* much
cooler than the rest of the house, but it was still better
than the sauna his room had become. At least the control
room had a fan. He pointed it at himself, feeling the sweat
begin to dry. And the air coming out of the vents wasn't
*hot*. It amazed him that they'd somehow managed to turn the
*heat* on in the dead of August, and none of them could
figure out how to turn it off. The guy from Con Ed wasn't
coming until sometime in the morning, and it was too damn
hot to sleep.

If he didn't think Cyke would blow a hole in him, he'd be
walking around naked. His boxer shorts -- his one concession
to modesty in a house full of kids -- stuck to his thighs,
making him very uncomfortable, especially in the leather
seat.

But it was still marginally less hot than his bedroom. He
glanced cursorily over the monitors, but saw nothing to
alarm him.

He briefly thought of putting the candle out -- it only
added heat to the room -- but then realized it smelled nice
and lemony, and was actually kind of peaceful.

Ororo, Hank and the Professor were at a conference in
Washington, attempting to persuade people that "separate but
equal" hadn't worked in the school system before, and it
sure as hell wouldn't work with mutants.

Logan wondered idly if an emergency trip to DC in the
Blackbird to pick up the weather witch would be feasible.
And if he could convince Rogue to go with him. Maybe a
change in the weather would help his cause with her, he
thought, only half-jokingly.

He was dozing lightly, enjoying the cool air on his heated
skin, when the door was thrown open.

He cracked open an eye to see Scott stomp in. He raised an
eyebrow and Scott grunted in reply.

"You're late."

"I've been here. I just had to take a leak," Scott answered.

Logan rolled his eyes, but changed the subject. He didn't
want to know about Scooter's bladder control problems.

"Why do you light that candle every night? Especially when
it's so goddamn hot?"

"I don't. I thought you did."

"It's not me."

"Huh. Can't you sniff out who it is?"

Logan shrugged. "If the candle was looking to kill one of
us, I'd be all over it. But now? It smells lemony and like
everyone who's ever been in here."

It was Scott's turn to shrug. He flopped down into the other
chair; Logan couldn't ever recall seeing Scott flop before.
He walked around like he was the one with an adamantium
skeleton, and a big metal stick up his butt.

After a long silence, Scott said, "I thought you could fix
anything. Why the hell can't you fix the air conditioning?"

Logan growled softly. "Don't lay this on me, One-Eye. I'm
not the one with the fancy engineering degree."

"Hmph."

More silence, not unfriendly, but not really comfortable,
either.

"Rogue's thinking about leaving the team," Scott said
abruptly.

Logan's hands tightened on the arms of his chair. This was
the first he'd heard of it.

Of course, since their big blow-out the other night over her
current choice of companionship, they hadn't spoken much. He
speculated about how long it would be until he had to pick
up the pieces for her again. All her relationships had ended
badly, save the one with Bobby back when they were seniors
in high school, and he was sure this one would be no
different. It pissed him off that, time and again, she chose
these losers who were no good for her, rather than himself,
the one right under her nose, who'd never intentionally hurt
her and, in fact, had nearly died to save her.

Not that he would ever bring that up, or begrudge her the
use of his healing factor. The way he could heal her if she
got hurt was one of the rare things that made being a mutant
bearable.

Thinking of the way their mutations meshed, he felt the
sweat drip down his back as he recalled the long sleeved
shirt and jeans she'd been wearing earlier, and the way her
perspiration beaded on her upper lip. Torn between offering
to lick it off and throwing her in the pool, he'd stomped
away, trying to get his feelings under control, trying to
forget that the current coldness between them was partially
his fault.

He wondered again if a break in the weather was the way to
her heart.

He tried to keep his voice level. "Is that so?"

Scott glanced at him. "Yeah. Dwight wants her to go back to
Mississippi with him."

*Snikt*

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. I figured you knew."

Logan retracted the claws, relishing the sting. Most people
didn't realize they hurt just as much going in as they did
coming out. He sighed. "Nah. We haven't spoken since--"

Scott nodded. Everyone in the house had heard the fight.
Logan and Rogue were many things, but subtle and quiet had
never been part of their repertoire.

More silence, a little friendlier this time. Seven years of
being in life-or-death situations together, as well as
Jean's unwavering devotion to her fianc� -- now husband --
had dissipated much of the tension between the two men.
Neither would ever admit it, but in addition to a grudging
but mutual respect, they actually kind of liked each other.

Logan was dozing, open-eyed this time, staring unseeingly at
the monitors in front of him, when Scott blurted, "Do you
think I'm romantic?"

Logan blinked. He looked around, then turned back to Scott.
"Well, for a first date, this *is* kind of lame," he
drawled, winning a reluctant chuckle.

"Jean says I'm not romantic anymore."

Logan waited for the stab of triumph he usually felt over
his rival's shortcomings. Instead, he felt a surprising
sympathy. "Women like all that romantic shit. Flowers for no
reason. Holding hands." This should have made him more
uncomfortable than he was, but he just wanted Jean to be
happy, and she'd chosen Scott. Therefore, it was his job to
make sure Scott made her happy. "You love her, right?" He
already knew the answer. Scott would walk through fire for
any of them -- he'd learned that the hard way -- but his
feelings for Jean transcended even that.

"More than anything."

He swiveled the chair to face Scott. "Do you tell her a
lot?"

"She's a telepath. How could she not know?"

Logan shook his head in disgust. "Christ, I don't know how
you ever got her to go out with you in the first place. You
made a commitment, Scooter. Love, honor and cherish. That
means you've gotta tell her every day -- every hour, even.
Women -- they're not like us. They need to hear it. A lot."

Scott sighed. "I think she wants a baby. We've been talking
about it."

This time, Logan rolled his eyes in addition to shaking his
head. "I can't believe the dumb shit that comes out of your
mouth sometimes. For a smart guy, you're real stupid, you
know that? This isn't about babies or anything like that."
Logan paused. He was sure that when Scott thought about it
later, he would be just as stunned as Logan was that they
were even having this conversation. "You just need to pay
attention to her. *Love* her. Show her she's still the whole
world, like she was when you first got together. Stop
spending every waking moment with the jet or the kids or
Chuck." His voice held an intensity that made Scott look up
sharply, and he knew he'd given himself away, that he wasn't
just talking about Jean and Scott anymore.

"I guess I have been a little -- inattentive lately. And
then, Betsy--"

Logan grinned. "She's a handful, that one."

"Have you--"

"No. I -- I kinda got my eye on someone else." Someone who
was currently not speaking to him; someone who was dating
the biggest horse's ass this side of the Rockies. <And that
includes Sabretooth,> he thought darkly.

Logan shrugged. He wanted to be annoyed that Scott was
sticking his nose in where it didn't belong, but he *had*
invited it, sort of. And it was reassuring to hear that
Rogue did have feelings for him. Since it seemed like she
had dated almost every available male in Westchester County,
he couldn't tell.

"I mean, I know she's not, she's not a--" He paused,
fumbling, unwilling to say it out loud.

"Virgin," Scott supplied.

Logan growled. "Yeah, that. I mean, I bought her the condoms
for her first time with the Popsicle. I told him he better
be good to her." He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened
hair. "I hated him. I made his training a living hell. But
he's one of us. He respected her. This, this piece of shit
she's dating now--" he exhaled explosively. He shook his
head. "I thought, I figured, after she graduated from
college, that I could show her. I mean, I wasn't looking to
jump her bones when she was seventeen, you know? Then she
got older and I realized how I felt. But she-- she stopped
wearing the dog tags. She stopped just hanging around and
started paying attention to all those jerks who came
sniffing around."

"She grew up."

"Yeah." Logan closed his eyes. "Yeah," he said again, this
time more firmly. "She did. I wasn't ready for how I'd, you
know, feel about that."

Over the years, he'd tried to figure out just what he'd been
thinking the last time they'd touched, that night on the
Statue of Liberty, and why she didn't know how he felt about
her.

It never occurred to him that the thoughts and feelings
she'd pulled from him hadn't changed and grown along with
the ones currently in his head and in his heart. It hurt
more than he'd thought possible that she kept choosing other
men when he was right there, waiting.

"You were used to being the most important thing in her
life."

"Yeah."

"And now you're not."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Why don't you just *tell* her how you feel? You just
said--"

"It doesn't work like that."

"Do as I say, not as I do?" Scott challenged.

Logan opened his mouth to say something when a movement on
one of the monitors caught his eye.

"Shit." He jumped up. "You see that?"

Scott nodded grimly. "Let's go."

"You stay here. I'll check it out." He bared his teeth in a
ferocious grin. "I could use the distraction."

"All right, but be careful." Scott tossed him a small
walkie-talkie. "Call if you need help."

Logan slid silently out of the room, his teeth gleaming
white in the darkness.

Scott concentrated on the monitors. All the public rooms in
the mansion were equipped with cameras, as were the
elevators, the lab and the Danger Room.

He saw Rogue and Jean sitting in the kitchen, and wondered
what they were discussing so animatedly.

***

Rogue smiled tiredly at Jean. "Couldn't sleep either?" Jean
shook her head. "It's too damn hot, and for *me* to say
that..." she trailed off, laughing. Most of the time, Rogue
didn't mind being covered from head to toe -- she was
frequently cold. Even eight years in Yankee territory hadn't
hardened her to temperatures below fifty.

"It's not the heat --"

"Don't even go there."

Jean laughed. "Sorry. I'm not really up for deep
conversation right now."

"It's all right. I've had my share of deep conversation for
the month." She slumped over, resting her head against the
relatively cool surface of the table.

"You got to take some of those clothes off, petite," Remy
said, entering the room. He was wearing nothing but a pair
of cut-off jean shorts, his long hair tied back with a
leather thong.

Rogue turned her face toward him, keeping one cheek pressed
to the Formica, and raised an eyebrow. "There's a recipe for
good times, sugar -- me taking off my clothes while everyone
else is running around half-naked."

He shrugged, impervious to her sarcasm, and went to the
refrigerator. Pulling out a bottle of beer and pressing it
to his forehead, he said, "I'm gonna call Stormy now."

"It's after one," Jean pointed out.

"Merde. Is that too late to call? When did it get so late?"

"When you spent the evening fleecing Johnny and Jubes at
poker," Rogue replied.

"Remy don't fleece no one, chere," he said. "He just that
good at cards." He bowed with a flourish, making both Jean
and Rogue laugh.

"So why don't you ever play with me and Logan?" Rogue asked.

"This thief got no wish to be skewered for winning every
hand."

"Especially when you're winning with an ace tucked up your
sleeve," Rogue said wryly.

Remy looked offended. "I don't cheat, chere."

"If you say so, Remy."

"I do." He leaned against the counter, popped open the beer,
and took a long drink. "You don't think I should call
Ororo?" he asked, sounding like a little boy who's lost his
best friend. They had just begun dating seriously, and he
was still insecure about her feelings for him, though he
rarely let it show.

"You know how she is when you wake her up," Jean said,
shaking her head.

"But I miss her."

"Then call her," Jean replied.

"But I don't want to make her more angry."

Jean looked surprised. "What makes you think she's angry?"

"She didn't call."

"Maybe she was waiting for you to call," Rogue pointed out.

"Merde," he repeated, sighing.

The teakettle whistled and Rogue got up, filling her mug
with hot water. She dipped the tea bag in and the scent of
raspberry floated through the kitchen. "Tea?"

Remy shook his head 'no' and Jean rolled her eyes. "Are you
insane?" she asked.

Rogue shrugged. "So I've been told. Quite recently, too."
She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"I'm gonna go call Stormy," Remy said, backing out of the
kitchen before he got involved in another discussion of
Rogue's twisted love life.

~Don't leave me,~ Jean pleaded with him telepathically, but
he ignored her. She couldn't take another round of
Rogue-angst. The girl had the worst taste in men Jean had
ever encountered. She'd had a headache for a week, since the
night Logan and Rogue had fought over it. The two projected
so strongly that even if the air conditioning *were*
working, Jean didn't believe she'd be able to sleep.

They'd had a running joke at the mansion that Rogue and
Logan would be joined at the hip once he realized she wasn't
a little girl anymore, but it hadn't happened. Jean didn't
understand how the girl - woman, now -- could be so dense.

Anyone with eyes could see that Logan was desperately in
love with her, and she with him, yet she continued to date,
and get hurt by, a string of losers. The only decent
relationship she'd had was that first high school fling with
Bobby, which they'd all known would end once Logan returned
from Canada, anyway. Things hadn't turned out quite as
they'd expected. Rogue's relationship with Bobby had ended
-- amicably, even -- but she and Logan had yet to get
together, much to everyone's, including Logan's, surprise.

The two women sat in silence for a moment, and Jean felt a
faint surge of hope that Rogue wasn't going to bring up the
current situation with her boyfriend and Logan.

"Dwight left last night."

Jean's hope was now dead as the humid August air that hung
in the kitchen. "That's too bad," Jean lied tiredly.

"No it's not. Y'all hated him, and he knew it."

"We didn't *hate* him, Rogue." Another lie. "We just felt he
wasn't good enough for you." Finally, the truth.

Rogue snorted. "He wanted me to go to Mississippi with him."

"I know."

"Scott sucks at keeping secrets."

"He's married to a telepath," Jean replied lightly, hoping
to change the subject. "He doesn't have much choice
sometimes."

It worked.

"What's that like?"

"What?"

Rogue blushed. "Always being in each other's heads. I mean,
I know what it's like to have the -- to have people in
here," she tapped her temple, "but it's only ever a one-way
thing. They never get any of me when I touch them."

Jean considered the woman before her. "I don't think that's
true, Rogue. You certainly left an impression on Logan."

Rogue's lips twisted into a grimace. "That's one way of
putting it."

"Rogue--"

"No, seriously, does he always have to be so noble? So
concerned? So fucking *obligated*?" Her voice rose shrilly
I mean, shouldn't this have ended when I turned eighteen? Or
twenty-one? Why is it still going on? What gives him the
right to interfere with my life?" She pulled her hair --
sweaty and lank -- off her forehead and into a ponytail.
"It's too damn hot for this drama. I'm sorry."

Jean laid a hand on her arm -- fully covered by the long
sleeved button-down pajama top Rogue wore over a white tank
top, just as her legs were covered in a pair of navy blue,
light cotton pajama pants. Just looking at her made Jean
sweat. "He loves you, Rogue. He just wants what's best for
you. It hurts him to see you unhappy."

Rogue snorted. "Yeah, right. If that were true then--"

She broke off as the door slammed open, revealing the object
of their discussion, carrying a wire cage like the ones used
to house the rats in the lab.

Inside the cage was a squalling baby.

Logan had a pained, helpless look on his face. He put the
cage down on the table and said, "It's crying."

"We noticed," Rogue said dryly. She looked from Logan to
Jean, who was now standing. "Well, you've got to pick it up
and see what's wrong."

Rogue sighed loudly. "Fine." She opened the cage and took
the baby in her arms, careful not to bring it too close to
her face. "You're a big boy, aren't you, yes?" she crooned,
settling him on her hip and unwrapping some of the blankets
in which he was swaddled. A piece of paper fluttered to the
floor. Logan bent to pick it up as Rogue gasped.

"What? What is it?" He was at her side immediately.

"He's a mutant," she whispered. "Look at him."

Logan let out a long, low whistle. Jean joined them,
container of soy milk in hand.

"So he can't have cow's milk," Rogue finished. "And I doubt
we have any formula on hand."

Jean laughed and began searching the cabinets for a baby
bottle.

Logan read the note in his hand. "'Please take care of my
baby. I can't anymore. His name is Sean.'" He looked at the
two women, a half-grin on his face. "I guess we got a new
student, eh?"

The baby's eyes were catlike, with golden brown irises and
vertical pupils. His face was covered with a light golden
down, though his features were human. As Rogue unwrapped
him, it became clear that not only his face, but his entire
body was covered in light golden fur.

When she freed his hands, he immediately reached up and
grabbed at the white streak in her hair, which had come
loose from her ponytail. She jerked her head back and the
baby started crying again.

Logan whispered, "Hey, hey, it's all right. It's all right."
Rogue wasn't sure if he was trying to calm her or the baby.
"He's got fur," he said.

"Yeah," Rogue replied softly.

"That means you can touch him."

"Yeah," she repeated.

Logan stared at Rogue, who cradled the baby carefully, but
with less tension in her shoulders than just a few moments
before. The look in his eyes took Jean's breath away -- it
was full of love and hunger and pain.

"We need to keep him cool," Jean said, breaking silence that
stretched, heavy and pregnant with unspoken longing, between
Logan and Rogue. "Logan, go get Bobby. Rogue, change him.
There are diapers in the cage. If he's not dirty, feed him.
Here's some milk," she took the container out of Logan's
loose grasp and thrust it at the younger woman. "Keep
looking for a bottle. I know there's at least one hanging
around from the last time my sister visited. I'm going to
find some sort of cradle. We can't keep him in a cage."

"Yes, ma'am," Rogue said, snapping out of her reverie, and
breaking Logan's rapt contemplation of her.

And with the force of her will, and possibly a telekinetic
nudge, Jean dragged Logan away from the kitchen.